


The Match

by rebecca5031



Series: Adding a Black [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Durmstrang, F/M, Koldovstoretz, One Shot, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 17:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16454525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebecca5031/pseuds/rebecca5031
Summary: One-Shot. The 1992 Inter-Schools Quidditch Final between Koldovstoretz and Durmstrang.This scene is mentioned in a story I'm trying to finish, but becasue this took less time to do I thought I would just publish this now. This will tie into a bigger work in time and already exists in the same universe as my other fic's.You'll see how they all merge when I finially finish.





	The Match

“Come-on! My grandmother can move faster than that!” She complained, arms flailing around her in frantic motions.

“Move you idiots!” This was screeched from her lungs at a piercing decibel.

“No, wha- What are you doing!” This cry of dismay was punctuated by the sound of her head thudding against the wooden post that prevented spectators from falling to a gruesome death. At this point, she was wishing for one- her team were being annihilated.

“Sister, contain yourself, please. You’re making a scene.”

Egor was her older brother. He was twenty-two, broad shouldered and was blessed with strong features. He escorted her to the game after some pitiful begging on her part. Their father would be furious if he knew that they came here tonight, but she couldn’t have gone on if she missed the final.

It was the evening before Veylet, a time when the women of their family would fly together in honour of Stribog. Alyona had managed to convince her family that she was spending it with Katya, Egor’s wife. The woman had given birth to the couple’s first child the week prior and had yet to recover, so of course could not participate. So, Alyona being the generous good-sister she was, decided to keep her company and to help look after the baby Alise.

That was the story they were going with anyway.

Alyona had been following the schools quidditch league religiously this year. It was her last year attending Durmstrang, and she could finally go and see each and every game they played. The previous years she had been under-age and needed a parent’s signature to say she could miss lectures to support the various teams in the tournament. This was obviously something her mother thought less important than her education. 

Balachko, the Durmstrang Team that was lead by their Charms Professor, had won the last three Inter School's League’s. They had a ‘rock solid defence’, and even had players that where being scouted for National teams! One would think they were a shoe in. Unfortunately, despite past triumphs, its seemed as though the fates where going against them today. 

“This is your fault, you know,” fire blazed in her eyes as she accused her brother.

“My fault?” Egor replied with indignation, but a smile twitched at his lips.

“Yes, yours! You’ve jinked it! You never go to these games, and when you do we lose! This is all your fault!” Alyona was caught between beating him to a pulp and moaning about the hardships in her life.

“I could go if you-” Alyona straightened from her previously placid position and clutched his arm.

“No! Don’t go, you’re my cover, if Papa knew I came here-” The horror was evident in her eyes. 

“I won’t do anything- so long as he knows I wasn’t the one who took you here and your cover holds up.”

“Yes, yes, I spent the evening with your darling Katya and little Alise, and what a lovely evening it was, tea and cakes and all that.”

“Al-”

“I know. Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“And that's another score for Dolya, bringing it up to an impressive 190-150” Melichar Žerotín’s deep voice sounded, halting their conversation.

A whistle was blown sharply, then like a giant wave approaching a beach, the spectators rose and began to shout abuse at Hrabar or Svergius depending on who they supported. Alyona missed the offensive manoeuvre and was confused as to the exact fault but still reacted violently to the penalty being awarded to the Koldovstoretz team.

“Nobody saw anything! Ref! Ref!”

Egor’s hand clamped down on her shoulder and she silenced immediately, but not without sneering at him for interrupting her tirade.

The game, because of the penalty, descended into anarchy, with another penalty being awarded to Alkonost. The quaffle was zooming up and down the pitch, racking up points on each side. Kuznetsov, the other Koldovstoretz beater, in retaliation for a nasty shot that almost killed his team’s seeker sent a bludger towards his Durmstrang counterpart, breaking Skanderbeg's nose. In the middle of the medi-wizard flying onto the pitch, Korabl'nikov, the Russian seeker, spotted the snitch and dove. The screams of fans reverberated against every surface of the ancient stadium. 

It was one of the most heart stopping, gut wrenching experiences in Alyona’s life. Krum had caught up and so now the two seekers flittered around each other in an elegant dance, both reaching, leaning, extending every limb in order to beat the other. Korabl'nikov grasped, Krum stretched. In a rapid flourish Korabl'nikov righted himself, fist clenched victoriously above his head, a proud look on his face. And despite the Krum boys best efforts, Koldovstoretz was victorious with the final score being announced as 380-200 in the Russian schools favour. 

Alyona’s face was one of horrified shock. Mouth open like a fish and eyes widened in disbelief she turned towards Egor, who, regardless of his true opinion of the sport mirrored her exactly.

“I- I don’t- I. What? How? Did you-?” Alyona spluttered incomprehensive of the situation.

Egor just slowly shook his head, still processing.

The Koldovstoretz team began their lap of honour, joy seeping into every wave and smile the players gave. Their fans, afforded them rapturous applause. For the first time in three years the Cup was heading back to Mother Russia. Feet stopped, horns blared and the gruff Russian chants began. The trees four miles away at the anti-muggle wards limits where shaking. The Southern Carpathians where an isolated place but with the noise the Russians where making Alyona wouldn't put it past muggle campers hearing them.

The Durmstrang students hovered silently beside the top box, nodding respectfully to the proffesors from both schools who sat inside and clapping polity for their opposition. The team finished their lap, and grinning wildly, they landed and dismounted in the top box. They were presented with the Quidditch Cup by Karkaroff and the Koldovstoretz Headmistress Molochnitsin, the latter sporting a wicked grin. Korabl'nikov raised the cup above his head and roared out in victory before stumbling slightly, Ovchukhov and Roosimäe running over to help right the seeker and together they rose the cup, shouts of glee sounding and echoing across the stadium.

The Cup was placed aside, and the customary speeches began. Alyona, glassy-eyes turned from Egor to the people surrounding her. They had gotten seats in a Durmstrang dominated box, and, when she observed her fellows, it was a crushed or confused expression that they were displaying on their features.

“We must go Alyona. Before anyone decides to go looking for you.”

“Okay.” Shoulders slumped, and eyes worn she followed her brother out of the box and heavy footed, trudging behind him. Eyes trained on her feet she knocked into a burly arm and scrambled to attention.

“O, sŭzhalyavam, mileĭdi.” The arm reached out and steadied her.

“Ya izvinyayus', ya ne videl vas tam.” She hastily responded to the man, head ducked in respect.

“My lady, it is I who should apologize. Forgive my fault?” The arm insisted in formal Russian.

Smiling, Alyona raised gaze from his boots and curtsied, as custom dictates. Her smile was polite, as it would not do to be too inviting to an unknown male, even to one who made the effort to speak in her mother tongue.

She was greeted with the soft smirk of Pyotr Vulchanov. Her pupils blew open and she bit her lip.

Opening her mouth with the intent to congratulate the chaser, a familiar hand tensed around her arm.

“Alyona, we should be going. Thank you for helping her. Congratulations on your win, you played very well.”

“…Goodbye.”

Alyona blushed at the farewell clearly directed towards her and lowered her head. She risked a look at him and smiled when she saw his focus directed at her. She raised a hand and waved, and he returned the gesture.

 

 

Notes:  
This match takes place in 1992. You may have noted Viktor Krum mentioned. I've put him at 15 here, before he was signed to the Bulgarian National Team. This is happening way before GOF.

I imagine that Durmstrang hosts students mainly from the old Slavic countries, say from the eastern boarders of the Czech Rep, Austria and Slovenia until the Black Sea and that Koldovstoretz takes in studnets from everywhere beyoud the Ukraine and Polish western boarders.

I just put in what the team names mean incase you wanted to look it up:

Alkonost- Russian folklore. Beast is represented as bird with head and torso of woman who has beautiful voice and is sending messages from otherworld. Sort of like a under-world veela?  
Balachko- Three headed giant from Serbian mythologie.


End file.
